


et draco chorus

by KayLingLing7, rayrayswimusic



Series: Event Fics [13]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Dragons, Fantasy AU, Knighthood, M/M, Reverse Bang, minor viktuuri/victuuri mention, no graphic description, semi-lore building, tw: mentions of injuries and blood, yurioniceshelter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-01 23:14:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10932030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayLingLing7/pseuds/KayLingLing7, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayrayswimusic/pseuds/rayrayswimusic
Summary: dance of the dragon(Latin)In a world where people are still chivalrous, where knighthood is more than a title. Where magic was and is an existence that can never be wiped away. Determination and hope can lead you anywhere, from good to bad.But it may also lead you home, whether that is a new place or old. And even with trials that test you to the very core of your being, youcansurvive and more importantly thrive.





	et draco chorus

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  Thank you so much to my lovely bang partner who worked with me on this fic, definitely check out her art it's absolutely beautiful!!! 
> 
> An especial thank you to my beta who read through much of this mess and helped me work out the kinks, but also was the best moral support ever
> 
> All links and translations will be at the end, but hope you enjoy my take on a fantasy AU!! However, just a note: I do not know Latin, Russian, or Kazakh. I know a bit of French so I believe I'm correct for when I used it, but otherwise I don't know for the other languages. Feel free to let me know below, but try to use the translations I did give as a way to enjoy the story whether I was correct or not.

_“Sir Otabek, thanks to your wonderful service to the crown for much of your life, as well as the services your family has provided us with, We would only trust you with this mission_.”

And though he had bowed and accepted the delegation with grace, kneeling at the floor in front of his King, his mind had been frantically running around. This was not simply a mission of gratitude or further servitude to the kingdom. He felt a sharp sting of fear course through his body.

It was a punishment.

And even as he had stood up once more from the floor of the court, arms glued to his side as he gave a final nod to the King, he prayed that none of his betrayal showed on his face. However, it was clear to all that this was not a discussed assignment between the two men. As the doors opened in front of him, he saw his page already holding his equipment, cleaned and ready to leave. It was apparent that the decision had been relayed to those below Otabek’s station before he himself had been made aware.

In a mockery of the respect he had held for the King, Otabek spun on his heel to once again face the court. As the doors began to swing close in front of him, he allowed himself a sarcastic nod of his head before storming off. Never noticing the flinch that came from the young King, nor the worried glances his Queen shot between the closed door and the despondent King.

The young knight headed off towards his chambers, retrieving the last of his essential possessions — a framed picture of his parents, as well as the small necklace containing his parent’s wedding rings. The last thing he had of them were these two objects, and he never left for a mission without them. Slipping the necklace over his head, the rings thumped against his collarbone before he quickly removed his day tunic for the much stronger and thicker one he wore under his armour.

Replacing his breeches as well, he tucked the bottoms into his boots before calling his page in. “Minami, could you please bring all my armour to me? The lighter ones should do well for this.” His voice was blank as ever, but the slight inflection gave away the hurt he so desperately tried to smother. A little while later he was heading out of his rooms, towards the stable. Minami was tottering behind him like a little animal, and though Otabek felt bad about his following words he knew that it was necessary.

Turning around, he placed a gentle hand on the shorter boy’s shoulder. Squeezing lightly, the smallest smile appeared on his face at the confusion visible from Minami. Sighing he began speaking, “you’ve been a brilliant page, and I know for sure that you will become one of our King’s most talented knights. However, once I leave for my mission, I free you of your service to me.” Otabek saw the boy begin to open his mouth and quickly squeezed his shoulder to stop him from speaking. “Find a new knight to help till you rise in rank. With my recommendation, I would suggest you ask Sir Yuuri if you may become his page, I have heard that he recently lost his.” Patting him on the shoulder one last time, Otabek turned back around and began walking to the stables.

He saw one of the stable hands approach him, but waved the boy away. He had always taken care of his horse himself. His old master, when he had originally been a page himself, had always said that the best knights were the ones who could rely on their horses. And the only way to do so was to build a bond with them. Thus, even after his horse had been through many battles with him, Otabek was always the one to take care of him. Nearing his beloved black destrier, he felt the small spark of joy that appeared whenever he came near his horse. Running his hand down the neck and back of the destrier’s body, he snapped his fingers, the horse instinctively knowing to lift its legs. Checking that the hooves were in good condition, Otabek turned back around to grab the brush he’d left in the stable.

Instead he found a teary-eyed Minami standing near the door holding the brush out to him. Shaking his head, Otabek walked over, ruffling the younger boy’s hair before taking the brush. “When you get your own horse, pick a strong breed, but pick one you can connect to. Philip and I had a bond from day one, and you too should find the one that has the same with you.” He continued brushing the horse’s body, feeding him oats and carrots as he went. “Whenever you leave for a mission, make sure you yourself pack everything, don’t let the stable hands do it if you have the time. Build that bond with him, okay?”

However, finally there was nothing he could do to prolong his stay in the stables. Leading Philip out onto the pathway, Otabek set his saddle on the horse, packing the saddlebags generously with the food Minami had brought for him as well as his supplies. Pulling out his sword from its scabbard, Otabek checked it over even though he knew that it had been in perfect condition the previous day during training. Hands trailing gently over the simple encrusted jewels in the hilt he faced his page once more, “could you do me a favour? Would you be able to tell the blacksmith, Master Nikiforov, a thank you again for this beautiful sword? It’s truly the best I’ve ever had. You’ll probably find him and Sir Yuuri together...”

Trailing off, he quickly shook his head before placing his sword back in his scabbard. Placing his foot in the stirrup, while Minami held Philip steady, he swung himself onto the back of the horse. His shield was strapped to his back while his scabbard and sword hung on his waist. Under his breastplate and vambrace he had a couple knives strapped just in case. Nodding one last time to Minami, he squeezed his legs against Philip’s sides, signalling it was time to leave.

As he left the confines of the kingdom, Otabek glanced back at the palace, knowing that unlike previous battles and missions, this one would be different. He fully expected to leave alone, but as he rode, he noticed the King standing at his balcony, just like every mission. Like always, watching him leave, a final goodbye and wish of safety. Still feeling the sting of betrayal he almost did not complete the traditional salute, but in the end he felt duty-bound to.

Facing forward once more, he removed his sword from its scabbard and raised it up, pointing towards the sky as he galloped away. _I might not forgive you as a friend Jean-Jacques Leroy, however, as your knight I will defend your honour and do as you bid._ Closing his eyes he rode off towards the forest, which formed the final barrier to his beloved kingdom, and the rest of the world.

—

 _“I’m sure you’ve heard of the young prince of the renamed_ _айдаһар қаласы, have you not? Three centuries ago he went missing, apparently hidden by a ferocious dragon. We’ve heard rumours that the dragon was spotted once more, a bright white and black striped beast glistening under the sun. Find it. Detruis-le.”_

His King had struggled with the foreign name, unaccustomed to the flowing language, yet to Otabek it was a breath of fresh air, eliciting memories of his mother’s singing in the beautiful language as she beat the rugs outside of their modest house. And the irony of kingdom’s name was not lost on him. Chuckling to himself, Otabek glanced around at the looming trees, blocking out every bit of sunlight as they strained to compete with one another for the limited resources. Near their roots were much smaller plants, curving this way and that way in order to find even the smallest scrap of sunlight that peeked between the leaves of the much taller trees.

In a way, Otabek was quite similar to those smaller plants, twisting himself to find what he needed to survive, yet as much as he fought to stay on top, just like the young plants, he would share what he had, even with those large trees that took from him.

Luckily for him, many of the creatures living in this forest were small, with the largest being deer which Otabek took great cares to avoid. He was considered somewhat of an odd knight for he always strived to leave the area that he went to battles or tours for as untouched as possible from human contamination. He avoided animals, only killing a select few with as little pain as possible when he had to. Of course that wasn’t to say when he stepped onto the battlefield that Otabek was the same person. He almost became a possessed person, swinging his broadsword here and there, his large shield coming down in front of him to defend his side, while his strong right arm was quick to go through the rogue’s chest, efficient and cold.

Getting off his horse, Otabek pressed a calming hand to Philip’s muzzle, feeling a slight shiver pass through his body. Glancing around, this time much more wary than before, he noticed that even the wind rustling the leaves had stopped. Not a single sound was to be heard throughout the woods. It was as if everything had taken a collective breath, waiting for... _something._

As if she melted from the trees, a woman stepped into his view, the shadows following her and blending in with her clothes. Robes of the finest eminence purple silk hung elegantly on her body, the ornamented deep purple bodice was tight around her middle while the arms and skirt cascaded down her body. In her hands she held onto a long white staff, and while she looked composed, the tension was visible in how white her knuckles clutching the scepter were.

Involuntarily he stepped back, feeling his breath catch in his throat. The air around him was saturated with power, sending Otabek’s mind scrambling. Her presence filled Otabek with a sense of fear and the last thing he wanted to do was get caught by her. However, before he could back up any further, she raised a hand with her palm facing him, and called his body to arrest its movement. To his surprise, her voice wasn't that of a crone, deep and discomforting. Instead, there was a wisdom in her smooth tones, an intelligence that belied the power hidden behind her mask of geniality.

"Young one, where are you going, these are treacherous woods to traverse without adequate protection which I fail to see you carrying."

Without his control, he felt himself overwhelmingly urged to tell her the truth and the potency of this desire, forced him to comply with her wishes whether he was ready to or not. Bowing slightly, he bent his head in respect to her before straightening up. Carefully, Otabek began speaking, not fully trusting her just yet, "My Lady, I thank you for the concern you have shown me, yet there is nothing to worry about for I am simply passing through these woods to the north. My mission, provided to me by my king, is only to begin when I reach the fabled city of _айдаһар қаласы._ "

He said nothing more, not wishing to give away who he was to her. Something in him screamed witchcraft, but the only magic that he had heard of in these parts was the sorceress who had cursed the missing prince. However, that was eons ago, and while rumours proclaimed that the prince was still alive, no texts had ever mentioned one with the power to defeat time and death. But still, the raised hairs on arms, the prickle in his neck and the out of place serenity washing over him made Otabek confused.

Just as he had been contemplating the lady, she too had been considering him. Her heart had stopped when she'd heard the name of her beloved city mentioned knowing that this was another boy who would not stop and listen to her warnings. Still, she had a sworn duty to try and that was what she would do.

"My child, listen to me. Many before you have attempted to do what you are planning to. To rescue the missing prince is a futile mission. He is not there anymore, and nor will he come with you should find him. Turn back now, I beseech you."

Otabek's forehead furrowed the more she spoke, bewildered at her juxtaposed warnings. She did not know him, yet she seemed to desperately want to protect him. As she spoke she had lowered herself to the ground, kneeling before him. Uncomfortable at the thought of a lady as majestic as she bowing to him, Otabek quickly walked over and knelt before her himself. Being this close to her, Otabek could feel the power rolling off her body, and he knew that she was indeed a creature of magic, a wielder of the world's natural power.

Though his face was blank, he tried to infuse the feeling of comfort into his words. "Oh Enchantress, for that is what you are, are you not My Lady? Thank you for your warning, but I must continue on my mission. As determined as you are to stop me, I am of the same mind to complete my duty." With that, Otabek stood up, backing up to his horse and grabbed the reins tightly in his hands. Tilting his head down at her once more, Otabek made to leave the area and the sorceress before she could stop him. However, before he could walk more than ten paces, she called out to him bringing him to a halt.

"You are very different from any other man I have seen through these parts. What is your name, sir knight? I am Lilia Baranovskaya, high priestess of the old religion and beloved enchantress of Gaia. I wish you luck on your mission, and may the blessings of the Goddess be with you in these treacherous parts."

Turning to face her once more, he bowed his head and spoke swiftly, "Merry met my Lady, I am Sir Otabek Altin of the Reims Empire.”

—

As he travelled through the last of the woods, he found that it had never once become a dangerous journey, with the animals still keeping their distance. In a way he hoped it was because of the sorceress' magic. That she was protecting him, yet he also wondered whether she was simply biding her time. Finally leaving the lush woods, Otabek found himself in a vast desert, something he hadn't seen on his map before. If he had remembered correctly there should have been a simple hunting village here, but instead he saw sand for miles, covering every inch of ground visible.

Reaching for his saddle bag, Otabek grabbed a simple scarf to tie around his face and protect himself from the billowing sand. He also grabbed the map to double check his directions, but on it he found a short message written in gold ink, the writing spidery in it's form.

_Sir Knight, for your respect and honour, I decided that you should be allowed to head towards my beloved city. I have protected it for centuries with illusions, but you I have deemed worthy. However, this is the first of the treacherous tasks you must handle, may She be with you always. -- L.B._

Glancing around Otabek could see nothing but sand dunes, but as he moved his head he noticed a shine out of the corner of his eye. Focussing on it only caused the disturbance to disappear, but if he glanced at it through the periphery of his eye, Otabek noticed a strange shape forming. A large castle seemed to appear in the horizon. Perhaps that was where he was expected to go. Facing Philip once more, Otabek wrapped another cloth around his horse's eyes, thin enough that he would be able to see but not allowing sand to enter.

"Come on Philip, it looks like we've found out where we will be heading, have we not, my friend?" With that, Otabek placed his foot in the stirrup, pulling himself back onto his horse. Destriers were warhorses built to handle the cold and the heat of battle and thus were not accustomed to the heat and uncomfort of the sand, but Philip had worked with Otabek for years. Both knew each other extremely well, which meant that Otabek was not worried about how Philip would fare in the foreign land.

The ride to the castle was extremely hard. Not because there were any obstacles, in fact even the wind and sand didn't seem to affect Otabek. Instead, Otabek heard and saw nothing but sand for days. He kept riding, yet the castle never seemed to get any closer, the horizon teasingly far from him. Sometimes it felt as if he was only seconds from reaching the castle, but then he would blink and it would retreat some distance away. There was no sound of life around him, the only things he heard was the heavy _clopping_ of Philip's hooves on the sand, and his own heavy breathing into the scarf.

After what felt like days, Otabek decided to break for the night, but when he looked around for some kind of shade he was was suddenly reminded that he was the only person here. He was reminded that there were no trees, simply sand all around him. Groaning to himself, he slid off of Philip, leading the horse to a tall sand dune. Luckily that protected them from the harsh sun, even though he had expected it to go down quite some time ago. Slumping down against his horse, Otabek reached over and grabbed his waterskin taking a large drink. Offering some to Philip, and then some of the horse's oats Otabek took some time to comb his matted coat.

In the heat, the thick hair that covered the destrier's body often caused overheating and the coat would become tangled and wet. Otabek always took the time to clean his horse, but something told him that doing so wouldn't always be easy in this land. Resting his tired body back against the horse, Otabek nibbled on some dried beef, being careful to not deplenish his rations. His eyes fluttered close as he fell into a fitful sleep, mind much too active to fully relax.

This routine continued for a few days, with Otabek riding for hours, unable to gauge when the night was supposed to hit for the sun never went down. He was forced to follow Philip's stamina and his own basic guesswork to know when to end for the day. However, the difficult part was not the passing time, but instead Otabek felt the effects of not having anyone to speak to. Though he was not naturally very talkative, Otabek did enjoy the presence of people for some time.

He had frequented many pubs all over Reims and was quite famous there. While he never allowed himself to get too drunk, he did enjoy his ale, and the effect of that meant Otabek was often found singing alongside the other knights sitting with him, and many found him most approachable when drunk. Though he valued his alone time like many other quiet folks, Otabek did enjoy socializing. So this complete cut off from civilization and conversation all together was exhausting him.

He had taken to scratching a tally of his judgement of days onto the back of his saddlebag. It had been over three weeks. He had been tempted to turn around, return back home and take the consequences of his failure, but there was a reason he held a reputation of unquenchable stubbornness. Otabek had never given up on a mission in his fifteen years as a knight. And though he was sorely tempted, now was not the time. Not after he had told the enchantress so.

That thought brought him to a halt. The enchantress, who had warned him of the treacherous perils he would face on his journey. The same enchantress who was the reason he was in this wasteland. He wanted to shout at the sky, her, anyone for putting him in this position, but he knew it was futile. Crossing his arms, he considered everything he knew about the situation.

Lilia Baranovskaya, an enchantress who'd initially blocked him but was now apparently testing him. She had said this was the first of his trials he'd face, which worried Otabek greatly. What more could he be tested on after this? Shaking his head, Otabek focussed back on the task. "If she wanted to trap me or kill me this would not be the practical manner, and she doesn't seem to be one who would toy with people. So why would she leave me in a barren land like this. I don't seem to be running out of food, or water. Philip nor I show the effects of riding continuously for so long. So what is going on?" He spoke this all out loud, his hands clenched tightly around the reins in his hands. There was something he was missing.

As he stopped for the night, letting his body rest, Otabek found himself falling asleep peacefully for the first time since he'd entered the desert land.The peaceful sleep melted into a very discomfiting dream. He found himself standing in a pitch black room, unable to see even a foot away from his body, yet around him he felt the confines of four walls. His eyes slowly adjusted to the lack of light, and though his vision improved very little, Otabek was a bit more aware of his surroundings. As he stood there, not moving lest something occur, he was surprised to see a small ball of light appear in front of him.

The light felt strangely appealing, pulling him closer towards it, before finally enveloping him in the bright white light. As he flinched at the sudden colour difference, his pupils rapidly grew, adjusting to the much higher levels of light than before. Glancing around he found himself in the forest from before. In front of him was the sorceress, causing him to reach for his sword at his waist. However he could not find his scabbard at his waist which terrified him. Still, he was determined to defend himself at all costs. He spread his feet into an active position, ready to react to anything she threw at him.

But Lilia only seemed to be amused by his attempts at strength. Her face had not changed much from the stoic look she had held before, although there was a slight lilt to her lips that indicated a smirk. She had been leaning against a tree, but at his appearance had straightened up. Holding her staff tightly in her hands, she spoke.

"You have learnt well child, do not trust those who show you kindness so easily. I am not an easily impressed woman sir knight, yet you were able to overcome my trial after such a short time. I needed to see that you could handle yourself without the aid of others. To see if you would be able to think your way through the problem without anyone there."

Otabek tried to hide his flinch when she walked over to him, but ultimately failed when she placed a hand on his cheek. A slight glow came from her palm, which relaxed Otabek's body. All aches and pain seemed to disappear. Still, he kept himself upright, resisting the urge to lean into her touch.

"You remind me of another, a young boy I knew a long time ago. I broke him down as well, for one who can rebuild themselves many a time are the ones who survive in the end. You too shall be one to survive, I shall see to it. May your next trial be as fruitful as this one. For I must admit, this one shall not be as simple I'm afraid."

Otabek felt his eyes flutter close once more, but this time when he awoke he did not find himself with Philip in the desert. However, he knew that this was not a dream for something screamed to him that this was reality. There was light in the room, but he could not see very well as the dim light was blocked by strange large roots hanging from the sealing. From them dripped a horrid black substance, and as he walked he could feel it coat his shoes.

Suddenly there was a hair-raising scream from somewhere in the room, and then he heard another. Each progressively getting louder until he could no longer perceive anything except the sound of the ear-splitting shrieks. Every time one scream was silenced, another began, forcing Otabek to cover his ears lest he go crazy. There was something much more sinister about this trial, and he doubted becoming aware of its existence as a trial was going to end it again. Sitting down against a one of the walls of the room, Otabek brought his knees up to his chest, burying his face into them. He tried to snuff out the screams with his hands, but it only seemed to get louder.

There was some respite, a couple hours of silence, but the wait for the screams to begin once more only seemed to put him on edge even more. It only seemed to have been a couple hours yet he wasn't sure how much of this he could take. During the respite, he struggled to get some sleep, knowing that some energy would be required to defeat this _game_ the witch was playing with him. But when he awoke, he did not hear the screams, for something else had woken him.

 _"Otabek, come on!"_ The voice of his best friend resounded in the room, causing his head to snap up and glance around frantically. Could he really be here? After sending Otabek away, could he have still come to protect him? He didn't believe what he heard and shook his head.

"No, I'm just hearing things, if I close my eyes maybe I can get a little bit more sleep." But as his eyes began to close he heard Jean-Jacques' voice once more, resounding in the room and calling out for Otabek. Shooting up from the ground, Otabek pulled out his sword, glancing around frantically. Had she somehow trapped his king in here with him? Walking around the room he looked behind pillars trying to locate the voice that continuously called for him.

The limited light severely affected his ability to locate anything, including pillars that littered the chamber. Otabek had to walk with his hand out in front of him, feeling for the pillars and walls, while the other desperately clutched his sword. As he finally began to give up, believing that no one else was with him inside, Otabek saw a flash of a strangely vibrant blue appear disappear behind a pillar. Rushing towards the source, he nearly crashed into the pillar but pulled up quickly to stop his motion. Getting closer he saw the glow increase in vibrancy before coming out from behind the pillar.

King Jean-Jacques Leroy stepped out cautiously, a strange sort of paleness on his normally sun-kissed skin. Glancing around warily, he turned to Otabek and whispered, "my friend, we must hurry. Come with me!" Otabek still wasn't sure if this wasn't one of the witch's tricks, but was reluctant to refuse his friend. A slight smile appeared on his face when he saw Jean-Jacques begin to do his trademark position, with both hands displaying two J’s on his chest. However, as he walked closer the arrogant smile he'd accustomed with his king melted into a scowl, before his left hand moved to point at Otabek with an accusing hand.

"Traitor! How dare you show your face to me scoundrel? You are a no-good lying, cockroach only fit for the scum of the slums whence you came." Flinching, Otabek began backing up, horrified at the words coming out of his trusted friend's mouth. "You should have stood by my side Altin, and for that you shall pay."

Jean-Jacques pulled out a sword from the scabbard he wore at his side, with Otabek quickly protesting as he began to back up. He did not want to fight his oldest friend and king, but Jean-Jacques' behaviour was beginning to scare him. He saw the sword glint in the poor light, but before he could raise his own, it swung and sliced his neck. His eyes snapped shut as he went to scream but found no pain had erupted from the area, and bringing his hands up left no blood nor a wound. Slowly he opened them to find that he was once again alone in the chamber, his king having vanished alongside the phantom cut.

Sliding to the ground, Otabek ran shaky hands through his hair as he tried to understand what had just happened. His best friend, his liege-lord had attempted to end his life. And though it was his wont for Otabek's act was one of treason, he had not expected it. At no point did the idea of Jean-Jacques being a hallucination nor an illusion appear in his mind. Just as he'd hoped that the respite from the screaming would continue, a terrifying scream began in earnest from above him. Staggering up, Otabek wildly began to swing his sword, his entire countenance wracked with grief and horror at what had nearly happened to him.

Again and again, he would encounter his friends and family all who accused him of betrayal. Minami coming to him and trying to kill him for abandoning the young page, yelling about the chivalry and honour he had failed.  His departed parents and siblings each came, repeatedly telling Otabek that he was a failure for not having figured out how to escape the simple chamber, for abandoning them to fate without any care.Yuuri and Viktor both together came and were horrified at Otabek's desperation to make it stop, for they appeared when he was willing to end the pain. The judgement they showed hurt him most, but it stopped him in the end.

But after what felt like days of torture, Otabek was nearly at his wit's end. He didn't know how much more he could take, and the effect of Yuuri and Viktor's disgust was beginning to wane. As he sobbed to himself, Queen Isabella appeared and came up to him, not yelling and not trying to kill him. He had sunk to the ground once more, hiding his head in his knees and arms trying to block out the pain. Softly she called to him, cajoling him to stand up and face her like the man she knew he was. When he glanced up, he noticed that she was not the blue that all the others had been, but instead a pale gold. On her face were two streaming lines of tears, trickling down her face and collecting at the base of her neck. Unlike the others, she rested her hand on his face making him shudder at the compassionate touch that he had lacked for much too long.

She smiled sadly, before tugging him to his feet. Placing her hand on the crown of his head, she seemed to glow ethereally as she spoke. "Otabek, don't give up hope just yet. You are so much stronger than what they say, ignore, and believe in yourself." As she began backing up, Otabek quickly reached for her, desperate to keep the person who hadn't hurt him close. To feel content, was something he never knew he'd miss but he did now. But she simply stopped, and shook her head before speaking. "No dear one, you must do this yourself. I believe in you," she brushed a strand of hair that fell into her face from underneath her circlet, "thank you so much for your help, I know it hurt you to betray him, _especially for me_."

Otabek finally let his tears fall when she slowly vanished, but he felt himself growing stronger from her words. He wouldn't give up, not yet because she was right, there was more he had to do, and even if his king no longer believed in him, he still had to try. His honour and self-worth were dependent on him never giving up. Standing up from his hunched up position against the wall, he groaned slightly from the aching sounds his body made. Shaking himself loose, Otabek glanced around the room, seeing that it was still the same dark and depressing place it had been since the moment he woke up inside it.

There was a slight difference this time though, for he could still feel the comforting presence of his queen  and her words wrapped around him. Following his instincts, Otabek stood cautiously at near the wall, his determination to get out of this trial filling his core. Every time someone came near him, ghostly blue with barbs of steel on their lips, Otabek closed his eyes, almost screaming as he swung his sword in a graceful arc straight through them.

For what felt like hours, he battled through his demons, yelling back at some when they accused him. Each person he hadn't saved in the crusades, the young children who'd lost their parents thanks to his failures, they all came to spit fire in his face. But he stood firm, resolute in his faith. He might have failed them, he might have not been of help, but Otabek had never betrayed or abandoned anyone. He'd die by his own sword before he ignored those who needed his help.

Just as he began to tire, his muscles burning from the amount of force he put into each swing, a door that he had not seen before swung open in the corner. Light poured into the room, illuminating each root that hung from the ceiling. He could feel the screams ready to burst once more but quickly ran out before they could do any more harm to him.

Outside he found himself in a simple bed chamber, a pair of night clothes sitting beside a steaming cloche-covered dish. Warily he walked towards the bed, glancing around to see if this was another one of Lilia's tricks but found nothing that was truly dangerous. Lifting the cloche, he saw a hot meal waiting for him, but what made him most curious was the innocent note sitting at the top of the plate.

Again in her elegant gold script she had left him a message. _"Congratulations my champion, you have passed your second trial. I have only ever seen one before you who was able to conquer his emotions and believe in himself. You should be proud sir knight, for you have thrown away your past self to reveal the true beauty of your soul.And beauty is what gives true strength to a man. Collect your horse when you have rested and continue down the straight path for a few leagues, you shall find the castle you are looking for."_

He glanced around nervously, expecting to see her appear from the shadows, but when she didn't do anything, Otabek allowed himself to relax. His stoic look had once more appeared on his face but there was a greater wisdom in his eyes, and assuredness that had not been there before in his shoulders. He ate the food, before changing at getting into the bed, relaxing for the first time since Jean-Jacques had given him the mission. Though he had fought against himself, against his demons, Otabek finally felt at peace for confronting them. He would never be over the pain of his failures but he had finally accepted them.

When he awoke next, he found that his armour and clothes had been polished and cleaned till they gleamed in the sunlight. Another meal as well as a large wooden bathing tub had appeared, cloistered off in the corner. Getting ready for the day, Otabek shook his head in wonder at the power of magic, and everything that had happened to him. Wandering out of the room, Otabek found himself exiting a simplistic hut, which surprised him considering the luxury the inside had shown. Glancing around, he spied a set of stables to the left and quickly ran over finding that Philip had been cleaned, his hair beautifully brushed. Speaking in soft, gentle tones to his skittish horse, Otabek set about putting the saddle back on, tying the tack together.

Leaving the establishment, Otabek glanced behind him, before taking his sword and crouching down to the ground. In the dirt he simply drew out the Leroy Insignia as well as his own family’s crest before standing up. Replacing his sword in the scabbard, Otabek gave a half bow to the hut before getting on Philip and heading roughly in the direction she had indicated.

After a couple hours of riding, Otabek arrived at a majestic castle, the design very ancient yet somehow the château looked as powerful as it was probably in the days it had been used. Beautifully decorated curtain walls were encompassed by towers with massive turrets, easily taller than he was, once again reminding Otabek the beauty and the immense wealth of the kings of old. As a boy he’d been fascinated by the incredible tales his mother had told him, of beautiful princesses also fighting alongside their lieges. Of monstrous creatures that would roam the shadowy forests and caves of the kingdom's only to come out and attack those unsuspecting travellers. Yet he also learnt about the Kings who’d befriend powerful creatures, the dragons that disappeared into obscurity, the mystical nymphs and other woodland and water creatures that protected those who wandered into their homes.

Otabek smiled to himself, reminiscing the times when he’d rush over to find Jean-Jacques, making excuses to pull the young prince out of lessons and tell him everything he’d heard from his mother. She’d been a seamstress for all of Otabek’s life, but her father had been the previous royal historian for Reims. Getting off Philip, he tied the horse to a tree a good distance from the castle, not sure what would happen when he went in. Entering through the gatehouse, he noticed that the ropes holding the gate open had long been removed, and instead it seemed that it was propped open with a massive boulder. He didn’t know a single man, or even a large group of men who’d be able to lift such a hefty rock, let alone maneuver it there. As he walked through the bailey, Otabek was surprised to find that while the castle itself looked beautiful, and old, the amenities like the well, and the outside kitchen that lined around the keep seemed to have been used quite recently — for a the bucket was still wet, and the kitchen’s fire pit was still smoking.

Had someone decided to stay there recently and that was the reason for the belief that people were saying the dragon was still around? Was his mission entirely for naught? Otabek did not realize, but Lilia’s magic had already begun to weave around his mind, making him, not forget the trials, but believe they were mostly a dream. This was something she did to give one last protection, for she had never intended to hurt the knight, but her duty to her charge, her kingdom, and way of life, was much more important.

As Otabek walked around, poking his head into dusty rooms which would often be connected to a room that seemed to be significantly less dustier as he didn’t attempt to cough his lungs out of his throat. As he exited the castle altogether, Otabek noticed a field of antirrhinums blossoming beside the castle. Curious, for these flowers were not known to grow well in this region, and in fact if it wasn’t for his insatiable curiosity as a child he would have never noticed this peculiarity. Walking through the field, his fingers brushed the beautiful plants, feeling completely at peace. But it seemed the serenity was not to remain, for a loud growl appeared behind him. Spinning around Otabek almost fell over in shock. Half of him was amazed and the other half terrified, at the most incredible, and _real_ dragon he’d ever seen in his entire life.

Otabek was frozen, surprise coating his face as he saw the chest of the massive dragon expand as it breathed in and out. There was a tremendous snarl on it's face, and Otabek could feel the air around him drop in temperature as the beast approached him. For such a large creature, it seemed to glide on the ground, nearly soundless if it wasn't for the building growl resounding in the back of it's throat. He could see that the creature had began to open it’s mouth, so Otabek quickly jumped back, pulling out his sword swiftly from its scabbard while his other hand reached to his back to grab his shield. Otabek had always enjoyed learning about history, about the myths and legends of the land, especially when he was able to tell Jean-Jacques everything he’d learnt that day. However, the fact that he might have to fight an actual dragon had never crossed his mind.

He felt a bit regretful at the thought of hurting such a magnificent beast, for he doubted that his chance of leaving the battle alive was high, however, he would be damned if he let it escape unscathed. Though his hands shook as from the dragon’s gaping maw a ferocious roar was heard, he let the fear and exhilaration of the fight wash over him.

A knight he may have been, pledging his life to protect his kingdom, but he was not stupid. He did not believe that if he lost, Reims would suddenly be in danger. However, he wanted to see his family, his Queen, and his best friend. He wanted to have the chance to train with Jean-Jacques once more. And no dragon was going to stop him from returning him, successful in his mission. A fire seemed to light up in his eyes, glinting dangerously as he narrowed his eyes, preparing himself for the worst.

The dragon’s brilliant white scales glistened under the sweltering high noon sun. It’s motions were limited as it seemed to glide towards him. But rather than allowing it the chance to attack him, he swiftly began running backwards, hoping to guide it towards the castle. The confined areas would give him a moment of control, allowing him the chance to sneak around the dragon. His mouth was dry as he glanced behind him, seeing the rapidly moving snake-like dragon come after him. But to his unfortunate luck, chasing him seemed to tire the creature out, for it stopped near the castle walls and opened its mouth to blow a powerful gale at him. Shuddering from the cold, Otabek tried to back away but found himself backed into the wall.

There was a pause before the dragon once again went to lean in and attack him, however that pause was enough for Otabek to push off from the wall with a loud grunt and run to the side in an attempt to evade the dragon’s sweeping tail. He remembered learning as a boy the techniques of battle, and that a knight must always stand his ground in a fight. But when he’d worked as a page with his knight master, the older man had been quick to correct him of this notion.

_“Remember boy, it’s not running away if you keep your body moving in a fight. Avoiding an immediate battle is often what will win you the war. Much of a fight is really the mental game you play with yourself.”_

When he had finally achieved the title of knight himself, under the then Prince Jean-Jacques, who’d lead them in many battles, Otabek had found many of his fellow knights sacrificing themselves in useless fights that could have been avoided. He hoped that he’d been able to pass this on to Minami, for that lesson had been one that saved his life many a time.

He could tell that the dragon’s scales were much too strong for him to penetrate on a direct hit, but he hoped with repeated attacks to its flanks, a weakness would emerge allowing him the chance to attack once more. He slashed his sword at its side, repeatedly hitting the tough armour there. Falling into a repetitive motion of attack, and leap back, Otabek almost fell into a moment of complacency. However, the absolute zero breath that attacked him, froze the moisture in the air around him which created large ice shards that came careening towards him.

Startled, he leapt out of the way, throwing his body to the side, narrowly avoiding the ice shards. Unfortunately, that placed him directly in front of the dragon’s forearms. His leap landed him on his back in front of the dragon so he quickly pulled his shield in front of him to protect his body, however the strength of the dragon’s claws was enough to shatter the shield and cut straight through his armour. It punctured his arm, slicing cleanly through the artery in the upper arm. Screaming in pain, his tight grip on his sword as his other hand dropped the now broken shield to press against the wound.

Using his legs, he tried to scramble away from the dragon who'd already opened its mouth to blow more of it's frigid air at him, but he didn't move fast enough and got caught head on in the resulting freeze. The blood spurted out of his arm, pooling in his inner elbow before slipping onto the steadily darkening grass. In an attempt to stem the bleeding he tried to squeeze it tightly, but the struggle to avoid the dragon’s biting mouth was wearing him out.

Finally, Otabek managed to make it to his feet, his sword hanging limply from his injured arm as he tried to stop the profuse bleeding with his other. Staggering, he began to try and get away, but the blood loss was beginning to make his vision hazy. Scowling, Otabek stopped moving, spinning on his heel to face the dragon.

Letting go of his hurt arm, he held his sword in the proper hand and clutched it tightly. Though his body shook from the shock of the wound, he clenched his teeth together. Snarling at the beast himself, he shouted, “you are not going to stop me. I **refuse** to lose to you.”

Otabek rarely spoke his thoughts, let alone through such a bold statement at an enemy, but he was furious and pained. Exhausted though he was, he let out a deep breath, his shoulders dropping from their tense position. With a ferocity that had not been there before, Otabek leapt into the fight with a renewed vigour. He knew this might be his last stand, but he wanted to see his home that his mother had painstakingly kept together till the day she died. To apologize and to yell at Jean-Jacques. To hug Isabella and kiss her forehead like he had done for years, even before her marriage to the snobby royal they both adored. He wanted to train with Yuuri, to teach Minami.

As he began fighting with his sword, he pulled out the knife he'd strapped to the inside of his vambrace and began using it deftly to stab the exposed parts of the dragon he could reach. Slowly, small trickles of blue blood could be seen coating the edges of his weapons, and glistening on the scales. His fingers brushed the blood aside, but that was a mistake for it was colder than even the famous ice flows of the north. He’d never felt anything more excruciatingly cold and painful in one moment.

The dragon used his momentary lapse of concentration to swing its tail around and smack him back into the wall. And audible snap was heard as the force of the impact shattered a few ribs. Feebly he attempted to rejoin the fight, however his eyes fluttered close, though he struggled to remain awake. His body slumped against the wall as the shock and adrenaline he was running on finally wore off to reveal the true pain he was suffering.

The collection of injuries was too much for his brain to comprehend and he slipped into a hazy state of unconscious consciousness. As his eyes began to finally accept defeat, he saw the dragon settle itself near his feet, deep blue blood running in rivulets down its side. A small satisfied smile came on his face, knowing that even though he would die, it would not be completely in vain for he had fought and drawn blood from a creature of old.

Eyes sliding shut, he lost full consciousness, succumbing to the rest and time to heal his body demanded, though it was woefully unprepared to deal with the depth of his injuries.

—

Sunlight seeped into the chamber, soaking the deep colour of the wooden bed with a natural warmth that seeped into the very air that filled the room. Laying on the bed, the gravely injured man fought the infection that had crept in sometime in the early hours of the morning. Continuing to fight had not helped to keep the already injured arm in good condition.

But as his eyes slowly fluttered open, he recoiled from the bright light and instantly shut his eyes. He didn’t hear any footsteps, but the sound of closing drapes was audible even through the pounding in his skull. He heard a soft male voice beside his head tell him to slowly open his eyes, and instinctively turned towards it. However, even then the minimal light in the room was enough for his head to scream in protest so he kept his eyes tightly screwed close.

An exasperated groan came from the voice before he felt a small hand rest across his eyes. He flinched back from it for it was unexpectedly chilly, but at the same time the cold was soothing to his feverish skin. The voice had turned somewhat impatient, yet was still soft and quiet as the person spoke.

“Slowly open your eyes, my hand will block much of the light till you can adjust to it. There’s almost no light in here so hurry up.”

Otabek cracked a small smile on his face, amused by the juxtaposition of the person’s words. But he still followed the instructions, eyes slowly opening to see pale fingers covering his eyes. They slowly widened, letting in bits of light at a slow pace to allow Otabek to adjust, before they were finally removed altogether. Though the light was still a shock to his headache, he slowly blinked, eyes frantically moving around to figure out where he was and to see who his helper was.

Seeing a man, no, a boy, with shoulder-length blond hair, Otabek was flummoxed because no one had come with him, nor been around him for so long, so where did this child come from? Opening his mouth, Otabek went to speak, but was quickly glared into quietness by the boy.

“You’ve got a very high fever from the blood loss, and the head injury didn’t look very great either. I can help you, but I need your permission–verbal permission–even though your voice is probably quite sore.”

Still dazed by the slew of information he was being suddenly registering, Otabek blindly cleared his throat and replied hoarsely, “you have my permission.”

The boy quirked an eyebrow, before a blank look appeared on his face. Raising both his hands, he held one a couple inches over Otabek’s arm, and the other over his head. Otabek watched curiously as he closed his eyes and began muttering words in another language under his breath. It was a smooth language, and very pleasing to his ears, but what completely threw him off was that this was a language he had only heard once before in his life.

When his father had laid on his deathbed, young Otabek had ambled over to him but was terrified as he heard his father speaking in a strange language. Perturbed, he had looked for help from his mother, but she had simply given him a patient smile and a request to wait. He had always admired how strong his mother had been during her husband’s passing, for she had stayed strong–not once did she let a tear out of her filled eyes, and always was she there to comfort him and his young baby sisters. She told him, only years later, that the language his father had spoken then was an ancient one, that had been long forgotten for the empire it came from had disappeared eons ago.

Otabek had asked why his father knew it, but she did not respond, and no matter how much he’d pleaded she refused to budge on the matter. He had forgotten that conversation for a very long time, so hearing such a young boy use it had shocked him.

But as he lay on the bed, he found that his injuries had begun to heal, with the hazy film that had covered his eyes slowly disappearing under the words of the boy. Shaking his head, he found that his headache had disappeared, and he could put a little pressure on his arms and sit up on the bed. Staring at the boy in wonder of his abilities, Otabek quickly realized that he wasn’t in fact a young boy, but simply short. He looked around Otabek’s age, with older features that no boy would ever have.

Quirking a half smile, Otabek spoke, noting that his voice was much smoother than before. “Thank you so much for your help,” he rubbed the back of his head awkwardly with his now completely healed arm and continued speaking, “but, I do have some questions, if you do not mind my asking?”

The other man let out another exasperated sigh before giving Otabek a terse nod.

“Who are you? Where am I? What happened to the dragon? How did you heal me? Do you have magic too?” Otabek’s voice was soft as he threw multiple questions to the scowling man, who quickly threw up a hand stopping Otabek from speaking.

“Good gracious Gaia, can you please stop? You have just woken up after three days of sleeping, I have not had a moment’s rest since I dragged you in here. Now, you are healed, so get out. You have till tomorrow to leave, the dragon will not hurt you.” There seemed to be a permanent scowl on his face.

With that, the man began to walk towards the door of the chamber, but Otabek was quick to shout out for him to stop. “At least tell me your name if you refuse to answer the rest of my questions? I am Sir Otabek Altin of the Reims Empire. You are?”

The man froze, before turning around to smirk slightly at Otabek. He tilted his head to the side, considering whether he should reply before shrugging. “My name, _sir knight,_ is one you don’t need to know right now. However, should you decide to ignore my wishes, you might find out.” With that, he gave a gracious bow, before leaving. Yet the way he carried himself, the bow, his mannerisms and speech, something felt different about the man. All of them were of the older style, one that Otabek had only seen during Jean-Jacques’ coronation. In a way, they felt more royal than the royalty that Otabek had grown up with.

Though he had been healed, Otabek was still exhausted from all the exertion his body had to go through so he fell into a fitful sleep. He sometimes woke up, and would notice that things changed in his room as he slept, from cleaned armour, to simple things like fresh flowers. For the next few days, Otabek simply slept, getting up only to clean himself and to try and regain the energy in his muscles. He found that he wasn’t disturbed, even though something told him that if he hadn’t been sleeping, he would have been kicked out.

Finally feeling well enough, Otabek decided that as curious as he was about the person who’d helped him, it was time for him to go home. He pushed himself off the bed and walked over to his armour and sword that had been laying in a small pile against the wall. Though it looked clean, years of taking care of his own things told Otabek that there was much work to be done.

Quickly crossing the room, he grabbed rag that had been left near the bathing tub as well as one of the wash buckets. Settling himself back down near his armour, Otabek reached for his sword first, holding it gently by the hilt and began methodically wiping it down. He remembered the first time he’d held a sword, barely five winters he had seen, yet his father had taken him from his toys and said that it was time for Otabek to begin training. He’d been handed a short wooden sword, and to the young boy that had been a magical moment.

Holding it up in front of him, he smiled when it caught the light streaming into the room, creating a beautiful reflection of light around the room. He held it up to eye level, allowing his gaze to run over the entire blade and check for any cracks or breaks. Luckily the fight with the dragon had only created scratches on the sword but it did not break anything.

Wiping the blade carefully, Otabek put it on the bed, gentle with it, before he focussed on his armour. He noted that while there was a superficial clean on it, there was still some dirt and sweat that had stubbornly remained attached. He got busy scrubbing the armour clean, and even when the door creaked as it was opened Otabek did not notice. It was only when he felt someone come sit beside him that Otabek glanced to his side and saw the same man from before sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest. He had a curious look on his face as he watched Otabek clean his armour.

Coughing awkwardly, Otabek held out the chest plate to him and quirked an eyebrow. Silently the man took the armour and held it close to his face as if he was inspecting it for something. Curious, Otabek sat quietly as he watched the other man fiddle with the armour, before his inquisitive nature could no longer keep him mum.

“Have you never seen armour before, _жолбарыс_?” The pet name accidentally slipped out and Otabek felt his face heat up from his embarrassment. Awkwardly he glanced at the man and found that instead of a confused or even angry face, it seemed Otabek’s blunder hadn't been heard for his eyes were glued to the armour. Now even more confused, Otabek tilted his head to the side and slowly lifted his hand to rest on the other’s shoulder. That seemed to snap him out of his reverie, but the angry scowl Otabek received wasn't necessarily welcome.

The man’s voice was almost reverential as he spoke, “your armour is beautiful. This is a style that wasn't used then.” His own words seemed to shock the man as he quickly tried to erase what he had just said, “I mean it's just not common here. This beautiful, almost embroidered metal isn't common.”

Otabek lifted an eyebrow at the sudden conversation change but shook his head, letting the man keep his secrets for the moment. He held out more of his armour to the man to hold and began pointing out some of the designs and the stories behind each.

“I got this armour, when I was twenty-five after I was declared an official knight of the realm,” he brushed his hands on the depiction of his family’s beautiful crest that had been embedded straight into the metal. “Parts of it, including this crest, were from my  father’s original armour set. My...my mother had it taken apart and remade into a new design for me.” Otabek had lost his mother a couple years prior but to him it felt as if the wound on his heart was still fresh.

Taking a shuddering breath, he plowed on in his description, “the golden filigree along the entire armour and the shield is actually based off a combination of my mother’s family and her own personal design. She was a seamstress you see, but I think in her heart she was still in love with the armour smith’s shop that her father had run.” As Otabek spoke, a small smile grew on his face as his gestures became a bit more animated. The love that he held for his mother was insurmountable when compared to any love he held for the people in his life. But it was the respect that shined in his eyes that seemed to attract the other man’s attention most. Otabek almost glowed with the pride he held for his family.

Hearing a sigh beside him, Otabek stopped speaking momentarily and turned his head to focus on the other person sitting with him. Tilting his head to the side, he made a gesture for the other to speak, and gave all his attention to him.

“My...my family wasn’t as lovely sounding as yours seemed to be. A _paragon of virtue_ was what we were called, yet I never saw that.”

Otabek was stunned to see that angry tears that pooled in the shorter man’s eyes, and had to physically resist to pull him into a hug.

“But, my friends, the one who supported me through thick and thin was the kindest, more caring, lovely person you could meet,” the man smirked, brushing a lock of hair out of his face, “yet, she was unrelentingly strict almost to the point of breaking me. Of course, though she says that she did, I don’t think so.”

Confused, Otabek watched as he turned and faced a small vase of _dahlia lilacs_ sitting innocently on his bedside table. In fact, if he thought about it, these flowers had been present since the very first day he’d woken up. But he became even more confused when the man stood up, brushed the simple tunic he was wearing and held a hand out for Otabek. Though he did not look at Otabek, there was a red blush rapidly spreading across his cheekbones which contrasted the almost permanent half-scowl on his lips.

“Get up, you are finally healed, and I think you can have dinner with me now. Come, there is a hot meal waiting for us in the dining hall.” He pulled Otabek to his feet and walked to the door, holding it open for him. But when he saw the lost look on Otabek’s face, he sighed and walked back over, grabbed Otabek by the shirt and dragged him out the door.

Over the next few weeks, Otabek found that he spent much of his time with the man whose name he still did not know. They would wake up and have breakfast together, and Otabek was now training him to fight with a single sword and shield, but in return Otabek was taught how to fight with both a sword and dagger, but also a technique he’d wanted to learn but wasn’t commonly learnt among the knights in Reims: dual wielding. The graceful, yet extremely powerful movements were something that had always attracted Otabek.

But watching as the other man went through his warm-up, Otabek was even more fascinated. He was agile and quick on his feet, yet each swing to the air was accompanied by a loud swooshing sound as if he’d sliced the air clean in half. Otabek could see the strong muscles flexing and loosening as he moved. Swallowing lightly, Otabek tried to focus on the techniques he was explaining in his brusque manner.

Otabek wasn't able to pick it up as easily he expected which didn't really surprise him, as he'd always taken a bit longer to pick things up. But the juxtaposed impatient patience that the man showed confused Otabek, for he would complain and yell at Otabek for not understanding how to do a move but would also explain it as many times as necessary.

As they spent time together, Otabek never tried to figure his name out, but he ended up using _жолбарыс_ more than not to get his attention. And though at first he seemed displeased, once Otabek explained what it meant, he seemed inordinately accepting.

In fact, Otabek found many of his behaviours questionable. From the stiff and uncomfortable speech he sometimes slipped into, to the almost strange reverence he gave to the dahlia flowers. He also didn't seem to recognize anything of Otabek’s home for his face remained blank when Otabek described his home town. Reims had been around for many a century, yet it had somehow passed this strange man altogether.

However, the most striking thing to Otabek was when the man fought. When they sparred it was a very controlled fight between the two of them. But when he was simply going through his routine, Otabek sometimes felt as if there was something missing, something large that was being forcefully suppressed.

Sometimes, Otabek felt that he should be on his knees, bowing to the man for when the light it him, he almost seemed older and wiser with a brilliant golden crown resting upon his blonde head. But then he would blink and the vision would vanish.

During all their conversations, Otabek never felt a need to tell him about his adventures getting to the castle, nor did he ask about where the man came from. Thanks to Lilia’s magic, he only felt the effects of what he went through but not the true struggles he went through. And something about the other man’s behaviour told him that asking who he truly was would not be a smart choice.

By the time he knew it, it had already been a a full moon cycle since he'd fought the dragon and he knew he'd put off his return home. He had already guessed where the prince was, but he didn't want to say anything if the prince didn’t say anything. Still, he’d been at the castle for so long, Otabek knew that he should leave. So instead of practicing that morning like usual, Otabek shook his head as he began to dress in his armour.

“I’ve been here for too long, and I need to go home and see everyone. I have a duty there.” He could see that even though the other man had a scowl on his face, the sadness that Otabek felt was mirrored on his face. “ _Жолбарыс,_ you could come with me you know? I have an inkling for who you are, and I promise,” Otabek caught the man’s gaze with an enthralling stare, “you will never be harmed in my home. I swear.” But in his heart, he knew that he would be heading home alone, no matter what. However, he knew that there would be one part of him left in the castle forever as well.

As he began to put the chest plate on, he noticed that he hadn’t put on his necklace like usual, and went to reach for it before realizing that it was nowhere near him. Eyes widening, Otabek crouched to the ground, praying it had only slipped under, but even there all that inhabited the floor were dust bunnies. Standing up, he looked around, trying to remember the last time he’d held it, but found he didn’t remember any time after the fight.

Sliding to the ground with a loud thud, Otabek ran a hand through his hair, struggling to remember if he might have lost it somewhere else. Glancing up, he saw the confusion on the other man’s face and tried to speak, but the panic he felt at losing the last things of his parent’s had closed up his throat. Coughing harshly, he settled onto the ground completely, bringing his knees up to his chest as he spoke hoarsely, “th-that was my...I l-lost the necklace holding my par-rent’s wedding rings.” Taking a deep breath that rattled through his lungs slowly, he continued speaking, “I think during the fight...I lost it. I...I can’t lose that too.”

He tried to hold back the tears as much as possible, but the hysteria had set in already and control of his tears had already disappeared. As they streamed down his face, Otabek focussed on trying to breathe properly but struggled to do so. Out of the haze created by the tears, he saw a blonde blur run out of the room, and only vaguely promises to find them.

Otabek wanted to stop him, but his priority was to search the room, hoping and praying the rings would be there. So he shakily stood up, holding the side of the bed till his legs stopped shaking, before he immediately removed all the bedding, searching each blanket and pillow just in case. He was once again searching under the bed when he heard a very loud crash against the wall beside one of the large windows. Stunned, Otabek quickly grabbed his sword and spun around to face the window.

The same dragon that had attacked him before was now gripping the walls and was using its head to shatter the glass. Hesitantly, Otabek took a couple steps back, still holding the sword in his hand tightly, but before he could make it to the door, the dragon let go of the wall with one of its claws and chucked something into the room. Ducking quickly, Otabek expected something hard to hit him and knock him over, yet instead it was simply a jingling sound that he heard when it landed near him on the floor. Still hunched over, he looked up and saw his necklace with mud-covered, but very recognizable, rings. Snatching it, he held it close, before looking closer at the dragon.

With dawning comprehension, he looked back down at the rings, and then up at the familiar, yet foreign, features on the dragon’s face. He felt shock race through his body, but he didn’t run, or even move. Simply, he gave a small nod, before slipping the necklace over his head. When it settled on his collarbone, Otabek let out a sigh of relief.

A slight glow filled the air, as the dragon disappeared and a man’s body replaced it, albeit his hair was much more tousled then it had been when Otabek last saw him. Otabek watched warily as the man walked closer to him, and smirked down at him.

“Well, _sir knight_ , I believe my lady told you that you wouldn’t find the prince you were looking for so easily didn’t she? Well...you found him.” He chuckled at Otabek’s shocked face, but smiled as a cognizant look appeared. “I believe, you are owed the right to know who I am, so I will tell you.”

Otabek was given no time as the newly-acknowledged prince sat down gracefully in front of him. Deciding to let things flow the way they were meant to, Otabek also changed his position, sitting on the floor, ready to listen as he found out who exactly the prince was.

“My name, Otabek Altin, is Yuri Plisetsky, of the ancient Plisetsky throne of _Ледяной Город_ or as it is called now, _айдаһар қаласы_. I am the first dragon-shifter since the beginning of the silver age.”

As Otabek listened, he learnt that Yuri had struggled to control his transformations as a boy, and had suffered much persecution from his family. Though they had never banished him, the comments, the harsh treatment, everything had been too much for the then teenager.

“Magic has always been banned in my home, however, where banishment is present, that is where it is easiest to find the prohibited. Lilia found me, for she was the only one who remembered the days of the dragons and their people. She helped where others hurt.”

Yuri had ran away from home soon after she appeared, and remained a dragon for so long, that he’d forgotten what his family had looked like. And though the kingdom had become absolved into another, the rumours had remained. So Yuri outlived his family, their descendants, and the lineage altogether for generations till the Plisetsky line and his existence had disappeared from history.

Otabek was suitably impressed, yet he was also pained at the thought of someone harming such a beautiful creation from nature. Honouring his pledge to respect all, Otabek gestured for Yuri to stand, as he knelt on the floor with his sword firmly pressed into the stone floor.

“You might have not received the respect you deserved as both a prince, but also a creature of magic, of nature. However, I will strive to change that, from this first bow. I pledge my sword to you, to protect you whenever I see you.”He would never force Yuri to come with him, but he would honour and respect him as much as possible.

Glancing up, he saw the shocked look cross over Yuri’s face, before the prince nodded at him with a solemn look. Smirking to himself slightly, Otabek placed his sword on the ground, and made himself look as if he was about to calmly stand up, but instead he quickly grabbed his dagger from his boot and slammed Yuri to the wall. Otabke held the dagger to his neck and smirked at the flash of fear that passed Yuri’s eyes before they hardened.

Leaning in close, he breathed against Yuri’s lips as he spoke, “revenge for attacking me.” But instead of the shock he expected to receive, or even anger, Yuri smirked and simply wrapped his arms around Otabek’s neck.

With a move he didn’t expect, Yuri pushed off the wall and spun them around before using his forearm to press lightly against Otabek’s neck. Moving it to the side, he effectively boxed Otabek in before leaning his head down to press butterfly kisses to Otabek’s neck. Blowing lightly where he kissed, Yuri smirked at the shivers that ran through Otabek’s body. Pulling back, he smirked again before speaking.

“ _Really?_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading my story, I really hope you enjoyed it!! Please leave your thoughts below :)
> 
> Anyway, links and other important info :P
> 
>  **Translations:**  
>  _айдаһар қаласы_ = dragon city (Kazakh)  
>  _Detruis-le_ = destroy it (French)  
>  _Жолбарыс_ = tiger (Kazakh)  
>  _Ледяной Город_ = city of ice (Russian)
> 
> **Links:**   
>  [Link to art](https://plotindevelopment.tumblr.com/post/161014373109/im-so-glad-i-can-finally-share-this-art-it)   
>  [Link to tumblr post of fic](http://rayraywrites.tumblr.com/post/161004349160/pairing-otabek-altin-x-yuri-plisetsky-characters)   
>  [artist blog](http://plotindevelopment.tumblr.com)   
>  [my main blog](http://rayrayswimusic.tumblr.com)   
>  [my writing blog](http://rayraywrites.tumblr.com)


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